


plush life (givin' me a rush)

by godsensei



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Based on a Discord Conversation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plushies, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 06:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14587446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godsensei/pseuds/godsensei
Summary: He’s currently in a staring contest with a giant plushie, hand perched over his own mouth as he considers what he’s truly, sincerely thinking about doing. The plushie is sitting there, an innocent bystander. Lance would feel bad about it, if his heart weren’t going into overdrive just thinking about it.





	plush life (givin' me a rush)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EternalWinterSleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalWinterSleep/gifts).



> I started this a WHILE back in the Shance Support Squad discord and just now got around to finishing it. Don't @ me.
> 
> This is gifted to Fier from the SSS, for always being excited when I mentioned this story, lol.

Lance is going to Hell… maybe.

 

_Probably_.

 

He’s currently in a staring contest with a _giant_ plushie, hand perched over his own mouth as he considers what he’s truly, sincerely thinking about doing. The plushie is sitting there, an innocent bystander. Lance would feel bad about it, if his heart weren’t going into overdrive just thinking about it.

 

See… the plushie was a gift.

 

They’d been on a particularly fun planet— it was very similar to Earth and they’d been invited to their version of an amusement park. They had all had fun. Well, Hunk had almost thrown up a few times, but he’s a trooper. Somehow, Shiro and Lance had ended up going ahead of everyone. Shiro had been surprisingly excited about the scarier rides, almost childlike in his enthusiasm. Pidge, bless her, had been too short for most of them.

 

They’d lost the rest of the group on about the third ride, and Shiro had pointed to the games area. Going through the games with Shiro had been… Well, it almost felt like a date. Lance couldn’t stop blushing at each smile Shiro had sent his way. The singular attention was more than Lance could handle.

 

While Lance excelled at shooting games, Shiro had dominated at strength games.

 

“Bet you can’t win me that giant plushie,” Lance had teased, jostling Shiro with his elbow, feeling confident after winning a few prizes for everyone.

 

Shiro had assessed the arm-wrestling match with a raised eyebrow before he turned a startling smirk at Lance, one that made Lance swallow compulsively, a thrill running down to his toes.

 

He had won. Lance hadn’t been able to look away.

 

And now? He can’t look away from the plushie that Shiro had carried for him all the way back to the Castleship. It still has the scent of Shiro’s natural musk on it. Lance, oh— Lance can’t stop thinking about the flexing of Shiro’s muscles while he arm-wrestled, about the sweat running down his skin, collecting in the hollow of his collarbones— the confident smirk on his face as he looked at his opponent, sure of himself and his abilities.

 

Lance sits down on his desk chair, shaking his leg nervously. Everyone should be busy right now, right? Half of the team is out on a run, and it’s not like Shiro ever visits Lance’s room, anyways.

 

Another image of Shiro’s smirk fills his mind and Lance pushes up from his chair.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says, making up his mind.

 

Sending up a small prayer to whoever is watching him to forgive him his sins, he makes his way to the bed. With trembling hands, he hooks his fingers under his pants and boxers and shoves them down, pushing them off the rest of the way with his feet. God, his dick is already fattening up at just the flashing imagery plaguing him now. He doesn’t even bother with his shirt, crawling onto his mattress.

 

He pulls the plushie into the middle of the bed, exhaling shakily as he throws a leg over to straddle it, settling into a comfortable position. He falls forward, pressing his face into the softness of it and inhaling.

 

Lance exhales on a sigh, the pure scent of Shiro filling his nostrils as he breathes. He smells _so_ good, a naturally earthy, warm essence that makes Lance’s eyelashes flutter, a noise catching at the back of his throat.

 

The plushie is fairly firm, so it’s easy to roll his hips experimentally, immediately imagining that it’s not an inanimate object underneath him, but the hard length of Shiro’s body.

 

Would Shiro let him crawl over him like this? Would his large hands slide up the backs of Lance’s thighs, settling possessively on his narrow hips? Lance opens his mouth as he continues gyrating, imagining that Shiro’s cock would fit perfectly next to his.

 

As Lance sits up slightly, he runs his hands against the plushie’s chest, eyes closed as he sees the planes of Shiro’s abs and chest. Shiro is _so_ fit, so much _bigger_ than Lance in every way.

 

Lance can just imagine Shiro’s fingers digging into the softness of his thighs, lifting his own pelvis to meet Lance’s arching hips. Would he tell Lance how much he wanted to be inside of him?

  
“ _O-oh_ ,” Lance says, thinking about it, about the length of Shiro slipping between his cheeks, just rutting. Or maybe Lance would force him to keep his hips still, doing whatever he wants, until Shiro is clutching at the sheets and _begging_.

 

Lance would know exactly what to do— would use his mouth, his hands, his tongue. Shiro would look at him singularly, like he had earlier in the day, soft and admiring.

 

Lance’s hips stutter imagining Shiro cooing words of encouragement and praise, biting his lips as Lance gyrates above him.

 

Lance pulls his shirt up a little, biting the fabric between his mouth. Running his own hands down his stomach, he relishes how sexy he feels in this dreamscape. Some small part of his mind is aware of how embarrassing this would be otherwise, but he can’t seem to care.

 

Leaning forward a bit, he holds himself up, arms framing the plushie— _Shiro_ — hips undulating with singular purpose. His cock is caught firm between the plushie and his own stomach, pre-come smeared along his skin.

 

Shiro would look down between them, watching their cocks slide together. His jaw would drop when Lance would slide a hand there, trapping both of them against Shiro’s abs. The friction would be exquisite, and Lance can just _hear_ Shiro’s shaky sigh, feel the tense of his muscles as he fucks into the space Lance has made for them.

 

“F-fuck,” Lance says, slipping slightly. He readjusts, rocking forward.

 

God, it’s not _enough_.

 

He wants Shiro inside of him, to fill him up with his fat cock, to let Lance rise up and come back down on him. He wants to hear the sounds Shiro makes, wants that hot drag to make it impossible to stay quiet.

 

Lance whines, head dropping against the plushie, before he pushes himself up and off. Padding over to his bedside drawer, he pulls out his stash of oil from the kitchen. Can’t exactly find any places to buy lube around here and he was unfortunately not thinking far enough ahead when he left Earth. Oil is just fine, though— works just as well for what he needs.

 

He settles back on the plushie, squeezing his thighs around it just to relieve some tension, and snicks the bottle open, coating his fingers before closing it. He bites his lip as he rises up, twisting around a bit. It’s a familiar sensation, his finger tracing his own entrance. He’s imagined his own finger as Shiro’s what seems like a million times and now is no different.

 

He sighs when he sinks a finger inside. His own hands are thin and graceful, but Shiro’s hands are large, thick. Everything about Shiro is big. Lance _loves_ that.

 

He drags his finger in and out, pretending, eyes fluttering as he envisions a beautiful smirk on Shiro’s lips.

 

“You like it when I finger you,” Shiro would say, and Lance would nod, helpless, holding on for dear life. “You look so pretty.”

 

“Hooo-my _God_ ,” Lance breathes, pulling his finger all the way out. He can’t keep his mouth closed.

 

“You’d look even prettier on my cock,” Shiro would murmur, using his free hand to stroke himself harder.

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Lance agrees, envisioning Shiro lifting a brow and holding himself for Lance to sink onto.

 

“Shiro,” Lance says between his teeth as he pushes both of his own fingers into himself, picturing them as Shiro’s, full-body shuddering when he bottoms out. Pressing himself against the plushie and just holding himself there makes it easier, shivering when he starts moving his fingers.

 

“Feels good,” he groans into the plush, hunching forward, practically humping the thing. His thighs are shaking, need coursing through his body.

 

“I know it feels good— feels good for me, too,” Shiro says in his daydreams, and Lance nods, shoving one hand against Shiro’s chest and driving into himself— faster, deeper.

 

Lance’s cock is firmly caught between himself and the plushie, and his breath hitches when he rolls forward and hits his prostate at the same moment.

 

He tries for it again, eyes rolling back, thighs shaking at the sensation.

 

“Oh fuck,” Shiro says.

 

“Yeahhh, Shiro,” Lance moans, gasping.

 

“I’m so sorry--” Shiro says, voice reedy and high-pitched. That... doesn’t sound right.

 

Lance’s eyes pop open, and he almost falls off his ride as his head swivels toward the open door… where… Shiro is… standing.

 

...Where _Shiro is standing_.

 

The only thing Lance can hear in the reigning silence is the blood rushing in his ears. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, stomach fluttering like he’s on one of the roller coasters from earlier.

 

Shiro’s face is completely red, but his eyes are caught on what Lance is sitting on.

 

“Is that…?” Shiro asks, unable to help himself.

 

Lance looks down at the plushie, face burning. He pulls his fingers from himself, wiping them hastily on the bed.

 

“No,” he answers, even though they both know that, yes, it _is_ the giant plushie Shiro won for him only hours earlier.

 

“Are you…?”

 

“I’m not imagining it as you! Wh-what, who would even-- it doesn’t even look like you?” Lance says, his own voice going high and reedy.

 

“I… didn’t say that you were,” Shiro says, closing the door behind him as he steps into the room. “But… _is_ that what you were doing?”

 

Lance swallows, looking away. He hears Shiro move closer, startling when Shiro frames Lance’s legs with his arms, leaning close. Lance’s eyes almost cross looking at him, eyes falling to his lips.

 

“Is that what you were doing?” His voice is low, almost rumbling. Lance feels compelled to answer.

 

“Y-yes,” Lance admits, meeting Shiro’s gaze, feeling like he’s still somehow dreaming. Maybe the plushie was so comfortable he’s been asleep this entire time. He straight up passed out right when he got on top of the thing and this has just been a nice wet dream.

 

“Was I any good?” Shiro asks, hovering ever closer, giving him that same devilish smirk from earlier that day— the one that sets Lance on fire. Lance can feel his breath on his own lips, can feel the heat radiating from his body, he’s so close.

 

“You didn’t move mu--” Lance begins to say, but is cut off when Shiro’s mouth covers his own. Lance responds immediately, opening up to him. His stomach feels like he’s dropping from the sky, and he clutches at Shiro’s shoulders to find balance. Shiro’s hands cup his face, drawing him up and off of the plushie, their lips moving together the entire time.

 

He doesn’t even pull away as he yanks the plushie from the bed, their tongues meshing, sinuous and slow. Shiro swivels them around, lifting Lance with ease and laying him down on the now vacant bed, crawling over him and settling between Lance’s spread thighs.

 

“I think about you, too,” Shiro says between the tilting shift of their heads, before meeting him in another lush kiss that Lance absolutely melts into at the admission. This is more than he ever expected. “I think about _you_ \-- _too_ much.”

 

Shiro moves his hips then, and Lance drags out a moan at the startling press of their cocks, breathing hot and heavy into Shiro’s mouth.

 

“Why didn’t you--” another press of lips against lips— “ _say_ anything?”

 

Shiro reluctantly pulls himself away from Lance’s sweet mouth, looking down on him.

 

“I didn’t know if you felt the same-- you’re always flirting with, well, everyone.”

 

“That’s just-- how I am! I never go _through_ with anything!” Lance says, using the moment to run his hands down Shiro’s front, pulling at his pants. “Take your pants off!”

 

Shiro licks his lips, grinning.

 

“Demanding,” he says, but does as Lance asks, shucking his pants and underwear down to his knees.

 

“I can’t believe-- we could’ve been-- _all_ this time, Shiro!” Lance exclaims, lifting himself and shoving Shiro over onto his back.

 

“Sorry,” Shiro says, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, he’s smiling up at Lance, cock lying heavy on his thigh. “Are you going to give me as good of as ride as the one I walked in on?”

 

“Just you _wait_ ,” Lance announces, sitting himself on top of Shiro’s thighs. His eyes cast downwards, curious. “I knew you were gonna be huge.”

 

Shiro bites his lip, gazing at Lance through dark lashes.

 

“How many times have you thought about it?” he asks, and Lance looks up at the ceiling, pretending to ponder it. His eyes roll back down to meet Shiro’s.

 

“You were my go to at the Garrison. I had your picture on my wall,” Lance admits, and Shiro sobers up, blinking at him in surprise. He searches Lance’s face curiously, hands sliding up Lance’s bare thighs and resting there.

 

“Ever since then, huh?” Shiro asks, and Lance blushes at the scrutiny, nodding, covering Shiro’s hands with his own. “You’re cute.”

 

Lance makes a face, slapping a palm over his eyes in embarrassment.

 

“I mean it,” Shiro says, laughter in his voice, squeezing Lance’s thighs gently. “I thought you were cute at the Garrison, too.”

 

Lance drops his hand, eyes widening as he yelps, “You knew who I was?!”

 

“ _Everyone_ knew who you were, Lance. The teachers and the older cadets liked to gossip about whom to keep an eye on and your name was up in the top. Neck and neck with Keith, actually.”

 

“ _Ugh_ , figures,” Lance says, rolling his eyes, but still thrilled at the information. Even if he hadn’t exactly been catching their eyes for the right reasons, at least he’d made an impact. “You really thought I was cute then?”

 

“When I was at the Garrison,” Shiro begins, “I was… a lot more laid back. It wasn’t until just before Kerberos that I really buckled down. I liked that you were always laughing.”

 

Lance blinks down at him for a moment.

 

“I really want you inside me right now,” he says (and he absolutely does, his cock harder just thinking about it) and Shiro sucks in a slow breath through his nostrils, eyes darkening.

 

“I’m not stopping you,” Shiro replies, his voice pitched low, giving Lance a look that brings a swift wave of need crashing over him. Lance leans over Shiro, fumbling his hand around beside him to grab the bottle of oil still on the bed. He shucks Shiro’s shirt up, revealing the muscled plane of his stomach and the dark hair that meets at the base of his dick.

 

“Resourceful,” Shiro says, approval written on his features. Lance flushes red at the compliment, hoping Shiro can’t see that his ears blush too, popping the cap and drizzling a bit over Shiro’s cock. He closes the bottle and throws it somewhere, not particularly caring where it lands at the moment.

 

Lance runs his hand over the muscles of Shiro’s thighs, up, up, catching stray streaks of oil that slipped down before he turned back. Shiro’s skin is smooth for the most part, but dips and pulls where old scars have formed. Lance doesn’t mind that at all, lingers over a scar or two to wonder about them before moving again, using the heel of his palm to press Shiro’s cock into his own skin, smearing oil all over.  
  
Shiro makes a noise at the contact, muscles jumping as Lance’s fingers find his way around him, the oil making it easy for him to stroke him. Shiro feels heavy in his palm, and the smell of him is even better than the distinct scent he left on the plushie. Lance has never felt so turned on before in his life.

 

If he thought he could, Lance would prolong this. He’d pop Shiro’s dick into his mouth and taste as much of him as possible, swallow him all up and fulfill all those late-night imaginings before Shiro comes to his senses or remembers that Lance is _Lance_. But honestly? His appetence to have Shiro inside is far greater than the desire to draw it out.

 

His pulse races as he spreads the oil from base to tip, massaging Shiro’s balls as well.

 

“Sss-- _fuck_ ,” Shiro mutters when Lance twists his wrist the right way, thumb grazing his slit just so. Lance can feel his thigh muscles tensing underneath him with every pull, the almost bruising indentation of his grip on Lance’s own thighs. He’s privy to the shuddering breath Shiro lets out when he’s jerked rough and fast, pre-come blurting out of his cock.

 

He’s never seen Shiro like this before, jaw tensing, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. It sends another aching tendril of need deep inside of Lance, and his ass clenches down empty, his own cock dripping.

 

“Fuck,” Lance says, standing up on his knees on either side of Shiro and walking on them to a better position. He reaches behind him, angling Shiro’s cock up and reveling in the gasp he hears when he presses him in, just the slightest bit. It parts the sensitive skin around his hole and he bites his lip, turning to look at Shiro.

 

Shiro’s chest is heaving, eyes dazed as he watches Lance, holding completely still for him. Lance shudders, slipping down further and not letting his eyes leave Shiro’s face.

 

Shiro breathes out noisily, like it’s taking everything in him not to just shove up into the delicious heat presented to him. His hands are running up and down Lance’s legs up to his hips and back down, as if staying still is too much, especially the further Lance lets himself drop.

 

Lance lets out a long, drawn-out moan as he settles flush against Shiro’s hips, his hot, swollen girth stretching Lance wide open. He thinks he’d come right now if Shiro were in control, because there’s a steady throb of pleasure emanating all the way from his hole to his crotch, his thighs already trembling with effort. And to think he’d just been fucking up against a plushie.

 

“You okay?” Shiro asks, mouth open and panting, one of his hands stroking sweetly at the curve of Lance’s spine, soothing him.

 

“You really are… big--  _dios_ \--” Lance can barely get out, clenching around Shiro and swiveling his hips just to see if he can. He handles it pretty well, so he starts a ginger pace, lifting in increments and pressing back down. Just this feels so good, the drag of Shiro’s arousal inside inciting a sort of pleasure he won’t soon forget.

 

Shiro’s face is too good to look away from, jaw dropped, each leisurely stroke from Lance causing him to squeeze at Lance’s hips where he’s gripped him tight. The urge to kiss him catches at Lance, so he gives into that desire, draping himself over Shiro.

 

He kisses Shiro’s pliant mouth, deep and hot and wet, slick sounds between them. Shiro’s hands slip from his hips to cup his asscheeks, spreading them slightly as Lance undulates.

 

Lance breaks away from his mouth to drop his forehead to the crook of Shiro’s neck, his own panting making it humid in that space. He doesn’t stay there long, bracing his hands against Shiro’s chest to push himself back up. Shifting, he picks up the pace, _needing_ this.

 

“That’s it,” Shiro praises, “yes, Lance.”

 

“Shir--” Lance begins, but cuts himself off with a muted gasp, spasming hard around Shiro where he’s lodged up inside. He hears the aborted curse from Shiro as he brushes that same spot, a steady string of _ah ah ah_ melting from his lips as he fucks downwards, his own cock jumping like there’s a live wire attached to the bundle of nerves he’s hitting every time.

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Shiro breathes, bending his knees up and _moving_.

 

Lance almost yelps at resulting pleasure, drawing up tight all over. He feels aware of every single movement, from the bedsheets brushing his shins down to the sweat rolling down his skin to the slide of Shiro’s cock thrusting into him now.

 

Shiro pushes up onto his heels, his muscles clenching, holding Lance still as he shoves inside. Lance can’t do anything but take it, mouth dropped open, tears collecting at his lashes at how goddamn good it feels.

 

Lance’s balls draw up close, muscles shaking with how tense they’ve become and he knows he won’t last long. Not with the way Shiro is pistoning his hips, or the string of praise he’s begun to mutter ( _so tight, Lance, come on, let me have it)_ as he watches himself fuck in and out of Lance.

 

It’s overwhelming, gasping out every breath, helpless sex noises spilling from him as he’s taken apart.

 

“Shiro-- _Shiro--”_ Lance says urgently, and then goes utterly silent as he begins coming, untouched, spilling over and over again as curls over Shiro. He’s still fucking Lance through it, drawing it out, Lance’s hips jerking helplessly as he pulses wet from his dick.

 

As he comes down, Shiro makes a desperate noise, rolling them over so Lance is on his back looking up at him. He pulls out of Lance, leaving him empty and still spasming from aftershocks, gripping himself and striping himself roughly.

  
  
It doesn’t take long for him to let out a guttural groan, coming all over Lance’s stomach and chest. He milks himself for as long as he can, come dripping from his hand and onto Lance’s thighs.

 

Shiro drops down beside him, panting hard.

 

They both stare at the ceiling before turning their heads towards one another at the same time.

 

“So…” Shiro says, trailing off into a laugh that sounds like disbelief, “Dinner’s ready.”

 

Lance snorts into a giggle and that morphs into a full blown laugh, hurting his already sore muscles.

 

“For the record, you were a much better lover than my plushie,” he says, and Shiro turns into his side, grabbing his face in one hand and pulling it over.

 

“Good,” he declares, kissing Lance thoroughly.

 

“Wanna take a shower?” Lance asks when he pulls back, and Shiro rolls his eyes as he grins.

 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, “but yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment and let me know what you think, you depraved lil' fiends!


End file.
